


yunsan sex pollen

by bigyikesenergy (whiskybusiness)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Confessions, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Happy Ending, M/M, Secret Crush, Sex Pollen, Situational Humiliation, Star Trek References, Weirdly Tender Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25302940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskybusiness/pseuds/bigyikesenergy
Summary: “Feel — ah,” he pants, pressing both hands against his abdomen. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Yunho, I don’t — I don’t feel good. I think something’s wrong.”
Relationships: Choi San/Jeong Yunho
Comments: 49
Kudos: 402





	yunsan sex pollen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaeyiuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeyiuna/gifts).



> thanks to kaeyiuna for the lovely prompt!

_Dilithium, dilithium, dilithium_. 

San opens the flap of his bag to check the contents. Tricorder, phaser, basic food and water, an elementary med kit. All there, just as they should be. 

Everything is ready. Everything except one tall, dumb thing. 

Yunho is late. Again. 

Sighing, San re-reads the mission brief as he waits. M-class planet, surrounded by a strong electromagnetic dampening field. Mid-range scans showing deposits of dilithium crystals. The planet is home to a small, pre-warp, humanoid population, concentrated about 3,000 meters from the largest of said deposits. 

It’s going to be a piece of cake for them — scan, extract, beam back. Right now it’s just past 0800 hours. San thinks they ought to be back by lunchtime, which is good, because Wooyoung told him they’re serving Old Earth tteokbokki in the mess hall today. 

If Yunho being late — again — stops him from getting his fucking comfort food, San is going to —

“I’m here!” 

— kill him.

“What took you so long?” San hisses, shoving the tablet into his bag. “The captain is going to have your ass.”

“She won’t care,” Yunho tells him with a grin. He bops San’s nose, then ducks quickly to avoid the oncoming punch. “I was only late to get the atmo shot from the doc, anyway.” 

Unconsciously, San rubs at the matching place on his neck where the hypospray had made contact. From the mission brief, he knows this planet’s air is argon-heavy and nitrogen-low. So the shot is important. It makes sure they don’t do something stupid — like _suffocate_ —- on their one thousandth mission to get these fucking crystals.

 _It’s the 24th century,_ he thinks, climbing onto the transporter deck. Hasn’t society progressed past the need for dilithium? Shouldn’t warp drives run on fucking magic, or something?

Yunho must read some of his frustration on his face. “You’re not happy we’re teamed up?” he asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy? Another glorious mission to explore the beta quadrant’s best exoplanets.” Rolling his eyes, San watches the officer on duty fiddle with the transporter controls. 

Yunho opens his lips, ready to run his mouth, but then his comm badge beeps. 

“Everything good to go, Lieutenant?” Seonghwa asks. They sound calm and unbothered as always. Quite the counterpoint to the captain, they are, even if their and the captain’s command styles do mesh together well. 

“We’re ready to beam down, Commander,” Yunho confirms. 

“Good. We’ll keep a lock on your signals, as usual.”

“Copy.” 

“Why do they always comm you?” San scrunches his face in a frown. It’s a bit of a sore spot. He doesn’t think Seonghwa dislikes him, per say, but why the hell do they always check in with Yunho and not him?

“I’m your superior officer, Ensign Choi.” Still smirking, Yunho turns to the officer at the control station. “We’re good for transport, when you’re ready.”

“Copy, Lieutenant,” the officer says. “Initializing transport.”

San appears a fraction of a second later on top of a small hill. There’s a forest in front of him, and it seems to be this planet’s equivalent of springtime. 

It’s nice that it’s an M-class. If it were another L-class, San would literally eat his tricorder. Hyposprays are a pain, but at least he can breath this fresh, unpolluted air without the stifling and oppressive heat of a protective suit. 

This particular area of the planet looks pretty hum-drum. Still, San hasn’t seen greenery since his days at the academy — close to three years now — and the sight of trees stirs something strangely emotional in him. 

“Pretty, huh?” Beside him, Yunho has already drawn out his tricorder. He holds it up, reading the scans as they come in. “Looks like the biggest deposit is northeast. About 250 meters.”

That’ll bring them deeper into the forest. “Got it,” San says, excited despite himself. Their away missions usually bring them to rocky outcroppings, and he’s going to get to see some plants. Maybe this won’t be so bad. 

They follow the scans past the treeline, walking in silence. 

It does look like a normal Old Earth forest. Despite the difference in atmosphere, San swears he can smell soil, the freshness of new leaves. He’s not enough of a botanist to know whether these trees match any known Federation species, but whatever they are, it’s a nice hike. 

“That transporter officer is obsessed with you, if you didn’t know,” Yunho says after a while. “Was he being weird at all?”

“Obsessed?” San picks his way over a large root, frowning. “I don’t know him. I guess he was kind of chatty at first, though.” Yunho just hums, and San turns to look at him. “Why, how do you know he’s obsessed?”

Yunho shrugs his oversized shoulders. It’s unfair to be that tall, San thinks, looking up. Why does his neck have to hurt when he looks at his best friend? “Heard him talking about you in the mess hall,” Yunho says. “He might be down to fuck, if you’re interested.”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah,” Yunho says. They’re coming into a rockier section now, which makes sense, if it’s where the crystals are. San keeps a steady hand on his bag as they navigate the terrain. “You know, when two people love each other very much…”

San would love nothing more than to give _Lieutenant Jeong_ a nice, hard shove, just to see him fall on his superior officer ass. “Oh, shut up. I don’t want to fuck a crewman, Yunho.”

“Oh? Looking for someone higher in the command chain?”

San makes a growling noise. “Why do you even care who wants to fuck me?” He jumps over a small ledge, landing with a thump on the rock below. 

"Don’t want to see you —” Yunho jumps down behind him, “— go another two years without getting some.”

Eyes narrowed, San spins around. "Well, I don’t want to see—"

“San.” Yunho nods over to a spot about ten meters to their right. “Jackpot. Two tons, right over there.”

“Nice. You can extract, since the commander is so enamored with your seniority.” 

Two tons is a nice solid get, he thinks. At the very minimum, it’ll delay their next fuel run for at least another month or so. 

Chuckling, Yunho draws the extraction kit out of his bag.

In their three years of friendship, San has never been able to get under his skin. Two of those years have been on this deep space mission, and Yunho has stuck with him through stuff that they'd only dreamed about as baby-faced recruits. Which include: a near run-in with the Borg, several memorable first contacts, a strange temporal anomaly that aged them backwards for six months, the constant battle against gravimetric shear, and, when they get the same day off, running every Old Earth holodeck program you could imagine. 

And a gazillion away missions to nab dilithium. 

Yunho has the drill out and ready, holding his tricorder in his other hand. He's a pro at this. He doesn’t need help, so San feels like he's justified in wandering over to the edges of the rock valley. Gazing up at the trees is much more fun than standing there uselessly. 

“So, what you’re saying is, you _do_ want to spend two years with blue balls,” Yunho calls over to him. 

“I’m not going to commit crewcest with anyone, Yunho,” San grumbles. 

“No one’s good enough for Ensign Choi, huh?”

Why is he _doing_ this? San’s cheeks are heating against his will. Because yes, there’s one person he’d gladly commit a multitude of sins with, and that person is standing ten meters away, his puppy eyes warm and curious. 

San’s best friend. The object of his guilty thirst for three goddamn years. 

And not just thirsting — that would be tolerable. No, every time Yunho rubs San’s shoulders or giggles or dances for no reason, San’s heart goes _oh, yeah_. 

He’s stupidly gone for Yunho in all the ways. Sweet, oblivious Yunho. And that’s the biggest tragedy of San’s life. 

“If you don’t get every last crystal, I’m telling Captain Kim,” he says, and turns back to his inspection of the plantlife. 

This one plant is weird as hell. Its stem is dark red and thorny, and it’s got six flowers in total, five reddish-purple petals on each flower. The petals of every one are open except for one flower, which is closed up like a hand with the fingers held together. 

San looks at it curiously. It doesn’t look anything like the flora they’ve seen so far, or anything he’s ever seen. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Weird plant,” San answers absently. He lifts a finger to prod at one of the open flowers. The petals feel soft like velvet, slightly furry. He wonders if it’s one of those plants that eat bugs. Carnivorous. 

“Hey, I don’t think we’re supposed to touch those,” he hears Yunho say.

He leans in closer, wondering if the flowers have a smell. Beta quadrant blossoms. Maybe they smell like Old Earth flowers, like the chrysanthemums Yunho gives him when he’s got enough replicator rations to waste. 

San sniffs deeply. Hm. No scent as far as he can tell.

He shrugs. And then he shouts, jumping back and falling onto his ass. 

“San?” Yunho’s voice floats over to him, alarmed, but San is too preoccupied with the sudden stinging in his neck. 

It’s nothing like the hypospray — it happened too quickly for him to really see, but the fucking flower bit him, he’s almost sure. With his nose nearly on top of that closed blossom, it opened and something bit him. Right on the jugular. 

That flower is still open. The petals are all extended, just like the other flowers. 

Again, San is not a botanist, but he suspects that’s a bad sign. 

He feels over the small raised bump on his neck, then brings his fingers around to look. Not red, okay, but _fuck_. Even if he’s not bleeding, it feels like he’s been speared by an especially vengeful hornet. 

“Hey, what the fuck happened?” Yunho crouches next to him, sounding breathless and worried. “I saw you fall, are you alright?”

Across the clearing, the drill is lying abandoned on the rock. Urgh. That means they’re going to have to start all over again. “I’m fine,” San says. “I think the plant bit me, though.” He wrinkles his nose, rubbing at the bite again. 

“Bit you? Let me see.” Yunho bats his hand away, holding the back of San’s neck to look. 

“I’m fine, Yunho,” San says impatiently. “It doesn’t hurt. Just surprised me.”

“Why were you touching alien plants, San?” Yunho blows out a frustrated exhale, his hand dropping away. “Do you want to beam back? Maybe the doc should take a look at it.” 

“It’s fine, I told you.” San has had quite enough of Yunho being nearly on top of him, and also breathing on his face, so he jumps up. Once he’s steady on his feet, he looks down at Yunho with a satisfied grin. “See? I’m f—ah!” 

He bends over with a sharp groan. What the _fuck?_

“What’s wrong?” Yunho stands up quickly, but San stumbles away from him, keeping a safe distance. “San?”

San’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire. His entire body feels hot, swollen, throbbing. Humming. It’s like how he feels when he sees something that turns him on — a well-done holoporn, Yunho coming out of the sonic shower in only a towel. 

It’s the surprised shiver of arousal that ignites his animal brain, gets his cock interested. Except now it’s all throughout his body, tingling in his stomach, head, chest, even his feet. 

“Feel — ah,” he pants, pressing both hands against his abdomen. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Yunho, I don’t — I don’t feel good. I think something’s wrong.” 

“What kind of wrong?”

“Can’t —” San doubles over again, a cramp spiking through his lower body. Fuck. His cock is beginning to fill up. His head feels so heavy; his eyelids too, wanting to flutter closed. 

“I’m calling the ship. I don’t care, okay? I’m calling the ship.” Yunho presses his comm badge. Then he presses it again. And again, harder. “Fuck, why isn’t it working. ” With a frustrated noise, he unfastens the badge and inspects the hardware. 

“‘S can’t? Work?” San manages, barely able to see straight. 

God, what the fuck was that plant? He’s going crazy. He swears he can smell Yunho, even standing at a distance. Yunho’s scent. Familiar, like soap and the eight bottles of expensive, woodsy aftershave Yunho had brought to last for five years in deep space. 

San _wants_ him, and it’s so much worse than his usual want. Yunho is right there. San’s head is weightless and dense at the same time, and he wants to crawl on his hands and knees right up to Yunho, pull down his regulation trousers and choke on his cock.

“It isn’t — fuck. It isn’t working,” Yunho says, with another exasperated sound. “I don’t know what’s wrong!”

“C-could be the — dampening. Thing. The field.” 

Grim-faced, Yunho pins the badge back on his shirt. “What do you feel, San?” he asks urgently, stepping closer again. 

San flinches. “Don’t come near me!” 

_Please come near me,_ he wants to beg. He wants — he needs Yunho’s long arms around him. Needs his cock in his throat, or his ass, even if it hurts without anything to ease the way except spit. 

Oh. Yunho’s spit. 

San’s mouth is welling up with saliva, so much that has to swallow every other second. 

“You’ve got to talk to me, Sannie,” Yunho urges. “Just — what kind of pain? We have stuff in the med kits, it could help.”

Oh God. San is so embarrassed he wants to die. He’s fully hard now, his cock erect and straining against his uniform. That’s not the worst of it, either — his nipples are erect, painfully sensitive. With every movement they brush against the fabric of his uniform, and he wants Yunho to pinch them, to tug at his hard nipples with his fingers. 

Oblivious, Yunho stares worriedly at his face. 

Of course he hasn’t noticed San’s reaction. Yunho is too good to even think about this kind of thing. To imagine San would be this stupid, reckless enough to get injected with a plant aphrodisiac. 

Maybe it’s not entirely the plant's fault. Maybe it’s just San’s preexisting sluttiness, his gross thirsty crush. Maybe the plant knows he jerks off every night to the thought of Yunho bending him over in the mess hall, his long fingers threading into San’s hair as San sucks him off. 

That, and the thought of Yunho interlacing their hands. Going on cheesy holodeck dates to old Hollywood movies. Sleeping in the same bed, so Yunho can kiss him on the cheek, all groggy and rumpled, when San has to leave for the 0400 shift. 

“It’s not pain,” he forces out. Oh, God. There’s really no way around it. “I feel — I’m aroused. I’m h-hard.” 

Yunho makes a soft, shocked sound. “What?”

“I feel really hot,” San mumbles. “I want to—” he breaks off, staring at the ground.

“San, hey…” He sees Yunho take a step. 

“No!” Nearly sobbing, San backs away further. “Don’t come near me, please. I don’t know if I can control myself, okay?” 

Cheeks flushed, Yunho keeps his gaze fixed rigidly on San's face. Because he’s so, so good. He wouldn’t stare at San’s embarrassing body, not even in a situation like this. 

Not like this, and not ever. He doesn’t want San that way. 

“It’s okay,” Yunho says slowly, hands up like he’s placating a feral animal. “It’s okay, Sannie. I just want to try the anti-allergen hypospray, okay? It could help you.”

Another cramp washes through San’s blazing body. “Guh — hngh, ‘kay, ‘s good,” he pants, nearly bent in half. 

Maybe pitching forward onto the ground would be a good idea. Then he could hide his dripping erection from Yunho, and hide the wet stain on the crotch of his uniform. He could drool onto the ground instead of having to swallow all this spit. He could stick his fingers in his mouth, maybe, to feel full. 

He wouldn’t have to focus every loose, trembling brain cell to not pull down his pants and rub his cock onto Yunho’s lean thigh. 

Oh, God. San wishes the ground would eat him whole. 

Hypospray in hand, Yunho approaches with a determined expression. “I’m not going to touch you, other than the shot,” he tells San, still blushing. 

He’s embarrassed because San is embarrassed, that much is obvious. He’s embarrassed because this is _embarrassing,_ his best friend turned into a literal brainless slut on an active mission. And despite it all, he’s still being so kind. 

San holds himself still as the hypospray presses against his sore neck. _Please let this work,_ he begs. _Please. I can’t do it much longer._

The shot releases with the usual hiss, and San feels — he doesn’t feel anything. 

“Didn’t work,” he moans, turning to Yunho, who is. Oh.

Yunho is right there. Yunho hasn’t moved away, and he’s staring down at San’s red, sweaty face. He looks entranced. 

But no, that can’t be right at all. San shakes his head again, feeling like he’s going to faint. Dizzy. What’s…?

“Give it a second,” Yunho tells him, his voice oddly low and hoarse. “Give it a second, just wait, San.”

His _smell_. San makes a strangled, desperate sound. “It’s changing m-me,” he says, and then he shudders, hard. “I’m not — I c-cant —” 

He shudders again, jerking as a third cramp contracts his abdomen. It hurts so much — it — 

Does it hurt? 

_No,_ San decides, his eyes rolling up in his head. It feels good. It feels amazing. The furnace of heat in his groin is making it too hard to think, so he gives up trying. 

“San!”

“Yu—” A fourth cramp, and he shakes so hard he’s falling, suddenly. He can’t keep himself up; he’s spasming all over, jerking like a puppet with its strings pulled in all different directions.

Then there are arms wrapping around him, holding him steady. “San, careful. Just breathe, alright?”

Oh, Yunho. “Yunho,” he chokes out, burrowing into the heat of the chest in front of him. 

So warm, so good. _It’s Yunho,_ he tells the squirminess in his brain. Look! Yunho is hugging him. Feels so nice. So good. 

“I think I know what the plant is," Yunho whispers into his hair. “San. I know what it is.”

“Mm,” San agrees, wondering if he can hump Yunho’s leg like this. Would Yunho like it? 

Being close to him is making the heat different — not stronger, not worse. Just different. Swelling and cresting, almost lifting him off his feet with how good it feels. 

“I read a dissertation on them once, in my xenophytology class," Yunho tells him. "The red — it’s a kind of aphrodisiac.” 

San moans, painfully hard. “Can I rub off on you?” 

He hears a sharp intake of breath. “San, listen to me,” Yunho says, sounding desperate. “It's not just an aphrodisiac. It's a poison. If you don’t have sex, you’ll die. Semen —” 

San keens at the word, his eyelids flickering. He’s drooling onto Yunho’s shirt, and he turns his head on Yunho’s chest to avoid the spreading wet patch. “Hn…”

“Oh, God. S-semen is the only —” 

“Then you gotta fuck me,” San says, mustering all his energy to tilt his head up. 

Yunho stares down at him, his cheeks the color of a tomato. “San, I—”

“You wanna put semen in me?” San stumbles a little in his eagerness, and Yunho’s arms wrap around him more tightly. Good. Yeah. “‘S okay, Yunho. For the cure, right? Just for the — the cure.” 

“It has to go in your ass,” Yunho tells him, looking embarrassed beyond belief. “San, I can’t do that to you.” 

“So you wanna let me die?” San pouts at him. He’s so hard and so hot, and his cock really liked it when Yunho said _ass._

Yunho squeezes his eyes shut. “Of course not, San, but I can’t do that. You don’t really want this! It’s just the — the….” 

_Sex plant,_ San supplies. He whines, unable to stop himself from reaching around to grab Yunho’s ass. It’s small and squishy, despite Yunho’s rangy frame. 

“San,” Yunho chokes out, but he doesn’t stop San from groping him. 

San makes stupid, mumbly noises from the pleasure of touching. “‘S not just the plant,” he manages, wishing Yunho would fondle him too. San’s ass is bony and also small, but there’s still a handful to squeeze. “I’ve always wanted you to fuck me, Yunho.”

“What?”

God, why is Yunho making him _speak._

The febrile heaviness in San’s brain is at a low point, receding just enough that he can form sentences, but it’s still difficult to talk. It’s difficult to think, beyond _Yunho, cock, Yunho, cock_. “‘M have a crush on you, Lieutenant Jeong,” he says, smiling like an idiot.

“I’m — what?” Yunho says again, sounding dazed. “San…”

“Since I first saw you,” San confirms happily. He likes how his name sounds in Yunho’s mouth. “Spilled coffee on me in the mess hall. Dumbass,” he adds, nuzzling his head between Yunho’s pecs. 

“Really?” Yunho’s voice is cracked with disbelief. 

San doesn’t hear. A fifth cramp wracks his aching body, making him emit an almost inhuman sound into Yunho’s uniform. 

It’s still not pain. It’s a deep, aching, unmet need that’s swelling inside him again, squeezing his insides. “I’m gonna, have to — ‘m sorry —”

He sinks to his knees and scrabbles at Yunho’s pants. 

Fuck, Yunho is wearing the jumpsuit, not the trousers — fuck. “Off, off,” San begs. He leans forward and rubs his cheek against the thick, hard line of Yunho’s cock. 

Yunho is so hard. He’s as hard as San — that must mean something? San’s mind feels sloshy, like an overfilled water glass. 

“Are you sure about this?” Yunho asks breathlessly, watching him make slutty, incoherent sounds with his face pressed onto Yunho’s crotch. 

Part of San has the sense to feel embarrassed. Most of him, however, is caught up in the faint, musky smell of cock under the fabric of the uniform. Yunho’s cock. Oh, San wants it shoved deep into his throat. 

“Off, wanna f-fuck, fuck my m-mouth,” he stutters, and then licks desperately at the cloth covering Yunho’s erection. 

“Fucking shit, San,” Yunho says roughly, more of a groan. “Okay, wait, just wait a sec.” He reaches back to unzip the uniform and pulls it down, taking his boxers with it. 

“Ohmgoh,” San says, open-mouthed. A bit of drool leaks out. 

He’s never seen Yunho’s cock naked. He’s looked — sneaked glances when Yunho sat in a way that pushed the bulge out obviously. When they’re hanging out in Yunho’s quarters and he’s wearing thin, white pajama pants, and San can’t stop darting his eyes to the swell of the cloth between Yunho’s legs. 

Well, now he knows Yunho is _huge._

Yunho’s cock matches his height, the ridiculous span of his hands. It’s girthy, long, circumcised, and currently so thick with blood that it bobs in front of Yunho’s groin, the most beautiful sight San’s wrecked brain has ever seen. 

“You don’t have to —” Yunho breaks off into a groan when San shuffles forward and takes the head into his mouth. 

He hollows his cheeks, sucking with messy enthusiasm. Oh, so fucking good. San can take about half into his mouth before feeling the wet glug that signifies the limit of his throat, but he sucks anyway, his hands curved around the backs of Yunho’s thighs to push his cock deeper inside.

“Fuck, San,” Yunho breathes, and San feels a hand push into his hair. “How’re you so good at this?”

He’s good? San takes a break from choking himself to look up at Yunho’s face. “Harder,” he pleads. He knows he looks like a disgusting whore like this, chin wet with drool and precum, but Yunho is staring at him like he’s enchanted. “Fuck my face, wan’ it all in me.”

“Oh my God,” San hears above him, but he’s already mouthing at Yunho’s cock again. Begging without words. 

Yunho takes San’s head in his huge hands and slides his cock deep into San’s throat. 

Oh, yes. _Yes_. “Hmmgh!” San chokes ecstatically, trembling in pleasure. Every salty swallow of precum makes his limbs shudder, like the best kind of drug. 

This is what he needs. This is what he’s meant for, to be used roughly for Yunho’s pleasure, his throat just a hole to leave his cum in. 

“You’re so good at this,” Yunho says, amazed, thrusting inside San’s sloppy mouth. Somehow, he’s still under the delusion San can think. “God, San. I know it’s just the plant —” he grunts, his balls slapping against San’s wet chin, “ — but you’re so fucking good. You been sucking off the rest of the crew while I’m not around?” 

“Nnnn,” San moans, his eyes fluttering as he shakes his head. _Just for you,_ he thinks.

He feels like he’s going to pass out. Yunho’s huge cock is deep in his throat, scrambling his brain into pieces. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need a brain to suck Yunho’s cock, or to moan around the shaft. 

Yunho said he’s good, and San wants — he needs — to be so good Yunho pumps cum into his throat. With that thought in mind, he forces his head up to Yunho’s groin and stays there. Then, his throat convulsing, he looks up. 

“Shit shit shit.” Yunho’s eyes are hot on his face for a single second before he wrenches San’s head off his cock.

It comes out with a wet sound, leaving San’s throat to work around nothing. “N-no!” San pushes forward immediately, seeking his cock. Why? He was about to — 

“Sannie, c’mon, the plant, remember?” Panting, Yunho holds him away. “God, _fuck._ ”

San gazes up at him with his face creased in a frown. What about the stupid plant? He wants cock. “Yunho,” he complains, a high-pitched whine. 

He tries to shift forward again, but Yunho holds him in place easily. “You need c — oh, God. I need to cum in your ass,” Yunho tells him, his face flushed red. He speaks slowly. “San. Listen to me. It won’t work if I cum in your mouth, okay?”

San whines, shaking his head. Every moment he spends without Yunho’s cock inside him is making the old ache rise, an itch that demands scratching. 

He pushes out his lower lip. “Cum in both,” he encourages. “Mouth. Then ass. Two times,” he says, proud of himself for so many words. 

Yunho stares down at him with wide eyes. 

“Mm?” San nudges hopefully, widening his eyes and opening his mouth. Waiting. 

After a second, Yunho exhales sharply. “I can’t, San. I don’t know how long you have — it’s gonna be okay,” he says quickly, when San starts to buck miserably at the pressure of his hand. “Hey, just wait, okay? I’m gonna see if we have any lotion in the med kit.”

“H-hurts,” San moans, hoping the lie will get Yunho to cum in his mouth. 

It doesn’t work. Yunho makes a rough, nonsense noise and strides away.

Watching him go feels like a knife is twisting inside San’s guts. It really does hurt. To distract himself, San takes the time to remove his uniform, pushing off the shirt and then the trousers with trembling hands. 

Naked, he strokes himself with a dry hand, sniffling at how very wrong it feels. The feeling is wrong — he shouldn’t be touching himself without Yunho’s cock inside him. It’s not right. 

When Yunho returns, San practically throws himself at his feet. “Please, Yunho, please…”

“San — San, I need to prep you, c’mon.” Yunho pushes him away with a gentle hand. “I got some cream. I think it’s for dryness, but it should work.”

“Don’t c-care,” San moans. He can see Yunho’s perfect cock right in front of his face. It’s only half-hard now, and that is so very wrong, San wants to cry harder. Yunho’s cock _needs_ him, and Yunho won’t even let him — “Don’t need it. Wh-whatever you d-do to me, I’ll like it, Yunho.”

“ _San_. Oh my God, you can’t say things like that.” Yunho crouches down, looking pained. “Let me open you up, or — do you wanna do it?”

San doesn’t want to do anything except get fucked. He shakes his head quickly, then flops onto his back, spreading his legs and lifting them up to reveal his hole. Oh, he’s so empty. “Do it fast,” he pleads.

“I’ll try.” Yunho has his lip held in his teeth. “Tell me if it feels bad — oh, why am I even bothering. You won’t. You can’t.” He makes a frustrated sound. “Just trust me, Sannie.”

 _I trust you,_ San thinks, confused. He trusts Yunho more than anyone. There’s no one he’d rather be with — here, on the ship, on Old Earth. Anywhere. 

“I love you,” he says, which he thinks sums everything up quite nicely. 

Yunho almost falls over. He steadies himself with a hand on the rocky ground, letting out a sharp grunt. “San,” he says, voice shaking. 

He’s always saying San’s name. The not-pain surges inside San’s body, sweetness wrapped in needles of want. “Please…”

“Okay. Okay. Fuck.” With another shivery breath, Yunho slips a lubed finger between San’s asscheeks, finding his hole and pressing inside. 

Oh, so good. Not as good as his cock, but San clenches desperately. “F-faster,” he begs.

Whether it’s skill or the sex pollen, San feels like he’s going to cum just from Yunho’s ridiculously long fingers stretching him open. 

“Good?” Yunho asks breathlessly, three fingers buried inside San’s hole. 

It sounds wet and squelchy. San wants to hump the air — he’s hard, dripping onto his stomach. His nipples are aching. Most of all, he wants Yunho’s cock inside him. “Ready, ready,” he grinds out. Yunho’s fingers slip out. “Wait — wanna…” 

Gathering his energy, he flips himself over onto his hands and knees. The position feels right — he no longer has to hold his legs up, and he likes how it feels to present his ass for Yunho’s use. 

He glances over his shoulder impatiently. “Hm?”

Yunho looks at him with an expression that’s hard to read. But he’s fully hard again, and, with a strange, worn sound, he pushes forward to press his cock against San’s rim. 

“Yu— ngh — ” San almost collapses when Yunho thrusts inside. “Hngh, oh, y-yes…”

He’s drooling again. “‘S good,” he tells Yunho in a moan, because he wants Yunho to know how happy he’s making him. 

“I hate this goddamn plant,” Yunho says, fucking him with two hands gripped onto San’s waist. 

_Hate?_ San blinks. Being filled up is making it both easier and harder to think, but he focuses on Yunho. Yunho’s words are important. “Wha?” 

“Wanna know what you sound like for real,” Yunho says, sighing. But he snaps into San anyway, his hands tight around San’s hips. “Wanna know if you’re always such a slut. Fuck, San —” He groans when San squeezes tightly around his cock. 

Slut, yeah, San is a slut. He’s Yunho’s slut. “N-not, don’ know,” he chokes. “‘M can be for you, do anything if you wan’ it, Yunho…”

“Yeah?” Yunho’s thrusts turn rougher, jerkier. He sounds like he’s winded. “Do anything for me, huh?” 

It’s just his words parroted back to him, but San still blushes. Is that wrong? He really would do anything Yunho asked of him. “Y-yeah, I — h-harder, please,” he whimpers.

“San,” Yunho warns, almost a growl, and then he’s ramming his cock into San with sharp, controlled movements. 

He pushes into him so hard that San does collapse, arms unable to hold himself up. With his cheek pressed into the dusty rock, San whimpers weakly. “Hn, Yu—ngh!”

“It’s what you wanted, right?” Yunho slaps his ass, drawing out another sharp keen. “That plant doesn’t make you lie, San. You really love it like this, don’t you?”

 _Yes, yes,_ San tells him, almost mindless with how good it feels. His ass clenches desperately. “Please, c-cum in me,” he moans. 

“I’m gonna,” Yunho promises. He leans forward so his front is pressed against San’s trembling back, mouth finding the place where the flower stung him. Oh, feels so good — Yunho’s large hands holding his waist, his cock thrusting thick and hot and velvet into San’s hole. His lips on San’s neck, sucking kisses —

It’s when Yunho’s teeth scrape his skin that San cums. “Yunho,” he sobs, his eyes rolling into his head as he spills untouched onto the rock. “Ah, ah!” 

“Sannie—”

His name in Yunho’s mouth is rough and almost unrecognizable. Something inside San bursts, proud and pleased at how _right_ it sounds. Stupid and useless with the pleasure of orgasm, he tries to clench around Yunho, to wring the cum out of his cock. 

“Oh fuck,” Yunho chokes, and then there it is. Cum spreads inside San’s hole, making him ping with happiness at the sensation. 

“C-cum in me,” he begs pointlessly, fuck-dumb.

“I am, baby, I am,” Yunho pants, and San hears the smile in his voice. Baby. That sounds almost as good as his name. San wriggles, squeezing every last drop, until he hears a grunt behind him. “Okay, okay, ‘m done.”

“Mnn…” San whimpers when Yunho’s cock slips out of his hole. 

It’s quiet for a moment. Then: “Oh my fucking — God, San,” Yunho says. With a blown out breath, he helps San turn over onto his back. 

“Whas wrong?” San asks, his tongue heavy. 

Yunho’s face is pink and his eyes are worried. San doesn’t like it. 

“I really fucking hope it works,” is all Yunho says, avoiding his eyes. “Otherwise…”

Oh, right. He could die. San lifts a hand and finds Yunho’s naked thigh, petting over his skin in what he hopes is a comforting touch. “Feel okay,” he reassures him. 

Actually, he does feel okay. With every second that passes, he feels more grounded. The mess in his head is clearing. He’s not drooling as much, and even as cum drips out of him, he’s finding it easier to focus on speaking and thinking. 

It’s not like flicking a lightswitch, but he knows when he’s fully himself again. 

“Yunho,” he says, cringing. What do you say when a poisonous plant forces your best friend to fuck you? “Uh. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Yunho looks at him with an uncomfortable frown. “Hey, it’s not your, um, your fault. It was the plant. I know.”

Is he really going to pretend…? “But it wasn’t,” San says, feeling oddly rebellious. “I told you it wasn’t just the plant,” he adds, quieter. 

Maybe it’s masochism, but he doesn’t want Yunho to be kind. He wants to hear the rejection. He wants some _judgment._

“San…”

“I’m really sorry you had to do that,” San rushes out, suddenly wishing he wasn’t naked. He feels vulnerable. “I know that must’ve been hard, and it’s okay if —”

 _You don’t want to be friends anymore,_ is what he’s going to say. 

But Yunho makes a shocked, disbelieving sound, shifting on the ground. “It wasn’t hard for _me_ ,” he says. “Are you saying —”

“I do like you.” San breaks his gaze away to stare at the sky, whose color edges more towards aquamarine than Old Earth’s traditional blue. “I know it’s fucked up, with everything that just happened, but I’ve been interested for a long time.”

For a while there’s only silence, and the sounds of the planet’s wind rustling the trees. 

Now that the worst is over, they really should get dressed. They could still try to extract the crystals, and San knows Ateez’s crew is probably close to figuring out how to break through the dampening field. It would be best not to be naked and leaking cum when that happens. 

“I’m in love with you,” Yunho says.

Um, _what?_

San turns to him in shock. Then he sits up quickly. “What?” 

Blushing, Yunho rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I just — I thought you weren’t interested,” he says. “I kind of thought I was friendzoned?”

Friendzoned? San feels hysteria bubbling up in his raw throat. “Are you joking?” he demands.

“This is crazy.” Yunho shoots him a grin that looks awkward, but strangely pleased. “I’m not, uh, not joking. I’ve been really into you for a while, too.”

“...oh.” They look at each other. San blinks, disbelief and happiness battling for control of his thoughts. “Okay. Talk about it later? We should get dressed.” 

“Yeah,” Yunho says, exhaling. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Clothed and somewhat cleaned, they’re just finished drilling when San sees Yunho begin to dematerialize. 

They appear on the transporter deck in bewilderment. “We’ve got them, Captain,” the control officer says quickly. 

“Do they need medical attention?” Hongjoong’s voice echoes in the room. 

The officer looks at them. “We’re fine,” San coughs. “No injuries other than boredom.”

“No, Captain.”

“Copy. Tell them to get some rest, then meet me in my ready room at 1900 hours.”

They get some strange looks on their way back to quarters, and San supposes they do look pretty grimy. Almost twelve hours on an alien planet — getting dosed with wildlife drugs and fucked — would make anyone look worse for wear, he’s pretty sure. 

“You should get the doc to check you,” Yunho tells him in a low tone. 

San looks at him sideways. “Why? Further humiliation? I’m fine, Yunho.”

“You said that last time, remember?” 

“And that ended up fine, too, _remember?_ ” 

It’s a good sign that he can joke about it. Yunho looks at him for a moment, then grins. “Just fine?”

“There’s always room for improvement,” San says, warmth in his chest. He gives Yunho a light punch on the arm. “I’ll talk to the doc. See you soon.”

He’s expecting Yunho to chuckle, maybe hit him in return. What he’s not expecting is for Yunho to look side to side furtively, checking the hallway, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss onto San’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” Yunho says when he draws back. He’s smiling. “See you soon, San.”

Huh. 

San stares after him. His lips feel strangely sensitive, as if the kiss had lasted for minutes rather than a single second. So they’re kissing now, okay. 

He smiles to himself in the empty hallway. Now that’s something he could get used to.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
